a wisp of smoke
by the inversed butterfly
Summary: Abruptly, her fist collides with the mirror, leaving it—and her—shattered and bleeding. CharlesRavenErik


**a/n:** hi. my writers block is almost gone. anyway, i've recently watched the prequel so i just started shipping like no tomorrow. i've always been a sucker for the childhood friend scenario, although it seems more like incest now that i think about it... I hope this made any sort of sense! It's kind of a Charles/Raven/Erik thing. Or Professor X/Mystique/Magneto. Yeah.

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><p><em>a wisp of smoke<em>

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><p><strong>one<strong>.

She places a dainty finger on the contours of her reflection, feeling the barrier of the mirror, and how it separates her from the other world.

Tilting her head a bit, she wonders why she had ever become like this. She had never understood any of the babble Charles talked about. Clamor about genetics and other things, she really never could fathom.

Removing her index finger from the condensated glass, she moves her arm down to her side. She observes her body and allow her hands to roam around her curves.

"Disgusting," She spits out at her relfection. She sees the blue, bumpy, scaly skin that was given to her. The aureolin eyes, beady, and narrowed. Her nude form, but really, it all looks like a very realistic costume.

She hates it. All of it.

Abruptly, her fist collides with the mirror, leaving it— _and her_— shattered and bleeding.

**t**_w_**o**.

Charles has always been a flirt.

Just not with her.

It's quite a peculiar feeling, she feels, when he interacts with the other female species. Something that builds up in her chest, a sort of... possesive feeling. She has never acted upon it, though. She wonders if she should've.

He'd captivate a lady with his knowledge and his charm and off they go, all happy and smiles, while she walks behind them, tightening the cloth of the trenchcoat she is wearing. Shielding her body from the world, making it unseen.

It's takes all she has not to slit the throat of the woman he is with.

_thr__e_**e**.

"_—Would you date me?_,"

It's a sudden question, something she had asked, without thinking. But she does not regret it, because it's a subject that's been bothering her for a while now.

Confused, he raises his eyebrows and becomes flustered for a moment. He chokes out, "W-what?," before shuffling the papers in his hands, lightly.

She steps closer to him and enunciates, "Would you... ever_ date_ me?," Furrowing his brows, he looks up at her and replies, "You've been quite indulged with your outer appearance lately, is there something wrong?,"

"Answer me," She grits her teeth in anger.

He sighs heavily and shakes his head, "I _can't _possibly think of you that way—maybe if things were different and—,"

"What if it _was_ different? What if _I_ wasn't like_ this_?," She shouts, her voice getting angrier towards the end. He stares at her and murmurs, "I don't know, I feel as if I am responsible for you, so really, I—"

"Nevermind, Charles. Forget it," She says, ruefully, slamming the door on her way out. Quickly walking to her room, she wipes a lone tear away.

**fou**_r_.

There are times, when they are alone, she thinks that she's in love with him. And sometimes, she lets herself think that he's in love with her as well.

"Raven," He starts off, a wistful grin on his face. She turns to him, inquiringly, her eyes full of innocence. "You're very special to me, do you know that?,"

Smiling a little, she nods, snuggling into his arms. He grins down at her and turns the page of the book. The duration of the time he was reading, was actually of her paying no attention. The words were fleeting as they seemed to pass into one ear and out the other.

All she was listening to was his voice. It was like a beautiful melody. Calm and sweet. Inhaling his elegant scent she buries her face into his side and lets his voice lull her to sleep.

_**F**_i_ve._

Everywhere he went, she did. Like a lost puppy. She was always by his side, unwavering and loyal.

Like a sidekick of some sorts, she muses, to herself, brushing through her blonde hair. She blinks and it suddenly turns to vermillion and it becomes short, clinging to her head. Putting down the brush, she focuses on the little cracks in the mirror.

Tracing them, she is startled when Charles knocks on the door and enters like the gentleman he is. (_you don't notice how your appearance changes back to it's normal state)._ He flinches when he sees her naked. Looking out the door, his voice is muffled, but he sputters, "P-put on a robe, will you!"

Frowning a little, she grabs the robe from the hanger and puts it on slowly. He peeks to see if she is finished—and she is—he enters the bathroom once more.

Coughing in embarassment, he murmurs, "I'm going to step out a bit to run some errands. Would you like to tag along?," leaning against the wall.

She stares at him for a while, before adjusting the sleeve of her robe. "...No," She says, turning to face the mirror. She watches his reflection shrug and say, "Alright," —uncertainly, before leaving.

She breathes.

_s_**i**x.

"Do you think I'm pretty?," She asks him, a little bit loudly, as the bustling chatter of the bar is overpowering. He sips a bit of his beer and peers at her through the corner of his eye. Before he had the chance to answer, they are pushed away from each other and a colleague of Charles appears between them.

"Charles, my boy! There are some ladies over there dying to meet you," The man grins, drunkenly. Uncertain, Charles smiles and replies, "Well I mustn't keep them waiting,"

The man cheers and tugs his arm away from her grasp.

She watches as they encounter the women, while taking a drink of her cola, silently infuriated at the empty space beside her.

_**seven**_.

When she first meets Hank, it's like a breath of fresh air. Like she's met someone like her. Not like hopeful Charles who believes in the optimism of most things. Hank actually thought that his appearance was horrid, despite her saying against it.

When she meets Erik, it's a different kind of story. She looks up to him, like he's the cool uncle. The one that's laidback and lets you play in the dirt, when your mother tells you otherwise. She sees him the guy that brings her up, when everything else seems down.

When she _sees_ Charles, she sees light. Sunshine. Happiness, the kind that she's been trying so hard to obtain. She sees love and care, something she hasn't had in a very long time. Someone she'd give her life for and someone who'd give his life for her.

When Charles sees Raven, he sees a sibling. A little sister, someone he cares for very much. An old friend, someone he has known for the longest. He feels the love, the platonic kind, the kind where he can't bring himself to think of her anymore than a very good friend. Raven—when he sees her—is a person who wants to be saved.

**eight**.

Her first _real_ kiss was with Erik. She always had dreamnt of her first kiss being with Charles, so it was a bit awkward and surprising.

But it was perfect, she convinces herself. So blisteringly perfect, she might've thought it was a dream.

During this time, she was the most vulnerable. And Erik—he sees _you_. The _real you_. The one with the blue skin and the red-orange hair and the yellow eyes. He wants _that_ Raven.

Maybe that's why you let him kiss you. And from there, it was absolutely surreal.

_n_in_e_.

The first time she realizes that Charles is _not_ in love with her is when he is talking to Moira on the patio.

It is his smile and the expression on his face that tells all. Something that you've been able to do, is tell what or what not Charles feels, just from the little movements of his face.

And he is in love.

With Moira.

not—

—_you_.

And you stop at the sliding door, your body frozen, immobile, as you watch them converse, happily, like a pile of giggles. You are unnoticed and absolutely invisible to them, even if you are only a few feet away.

He places a hand on Moira's, still nodding at her words. And then he chuckles.

Swallowing your pride, you step backwards into the manor, closing the glass door, slowly, without a sound.

ten.

_"_—_You're beautiful_"

He says.

It's something you've been waiting for, for a long time. Two words, that mean so much, but said from the wrong person. You've been waiting—so long—for _Charles_ to say it, but you know that's never going to happen.

He holds out his arm and you stare at his calloused palms.

_Charles, _you think.

He will be fine.

eleven.

You take his hand.

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><p>please review~<p> 


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